Sandyclaws is coming to DawnClan!
by Ultimate Jelly Sandwich
Summary: What better way to lift your spirits this leaf-bare than to become a fictional character for the Hollydays? ;3


Dusktail rumbled a fond purr as he sat beside his old friend, Ravenwing, watching her three kits from outside the nursery. They wrestled and tumbled about in the fresh layer of snow, a generous gift bestowed by StarClan, prompting the sturdy gray warrior to remember his own kit-hood.

"Remember when we used to look like that?" he asked, leaning into the inky black she-cat so that his muzzle was against her ear.

He could hear her purring as well, turning to face the tomcat with icy blue eyes. "But of course," she mewed. "We were only the most adorable kits in the history of the Clan!"

Dusktail's whiskers twitched. "You mean, besides your kits?" he fought the urge to twine his tail with hers, settling just with the warmth of her pelt against his. He knew it wasn't right; Ravenwing belonged to another tom. Even if Crowflight had died, it had been so few moons ago; he knew her heart was still his. He had no right to change that.

Though, he found it hard at times to ignore his feelings, especially when they were so close.

His thoughts were interrupted as the raven-black she-cat pressed her flank against his. "Yes. And they'll make fine warriors when it's their time." her words were light, loving, but Dusktail could hear the hurt in them as she continued. "I only wish that Crowflight could see them grow up... alongside me..."

The young gray warrior felt a stab of sympathy at her words, coupled with bitter regret that ate at him like an unreachable tic.

He and his littermate, Sparrowclaw, were responsible for the death of her mate. Crowflight's daughter, Huntress, had been born of a litter from before he had become a warrior or the Clans. He had abandoned his life as a rogue—and Huntress, as well—when he'd realized that life as a rogue didn't come with the protection of being a warrior, leaving his mate, Frost, and Huntress to fend for themselves against a bloodthirsty badger. His mate had died, but his daughter survived, thrived, seething in her hatred for him. Many moons later, when the she-kit had grown into a bloodthirsty sociopath, he and Sparrowclaw had helped her track him and brought him to her to take her revenge.

It wasn't an action that Dusktail had regretted at first, but when he had learned of Ravenwing's involvement with the deceased warrior, he had learned that her three kits—Flamekit, Specklekit, and Crowkit, who had been named in his father's memory, had been born on the night of his death.

And Crowkit—that kit bore an uncanny resemblance to his father. He had the same smoky-black pelt, the same ghostly yellow gaze, and the same long, wiry tail. A constant reminder of his sin; one he could never forget, not even when he'd make his final journey to Silverpelt.

Never.

It was at this time that Dusktail had noticed Ravenwing's closeness. He became all too aware of her then; her sweet scent, the sound of her faint purring. It took all the self-control he had to keep from pressing his muzzle against hers. His heart was throbbing now, hammering inside his chest. The rest of his Clan seemed to melt away before him; disappearing so that all he could see, all he could feel, was Ravenwing.

That is, until Flamekit reared up on her hind legs, only to be matched by her brother's sturdy frame as Crowkit knocked her back into the nursery.

The den rattled under her weight, and it wasn't long before a shaggy, gray-and-white head poked out, scowling and clearly not amused. "Don't you three ever rest?" the broad-faced she-cat growled. "Some of us can't mill around like rabbits until moonhigh."

Immediately, Ravenwing got to her paws. "We're sorry, Cinderfang—I'll take the kits elsewhere so you can rest."

The old gray she-cat muttered something under her breath that Dusktail didn't hear, and then retired into the den. He wondered briefly what tom would take her as a mate when she was clearly as prickly as a hedgehog, and then thought of all cats she wouldn't tell _him_.

It would take some getting used to, living in DawnClan after being a rogue so long. Not every cat could trust him the way Sootstar, his father, trusted him, but their suspicions were justified. After all, his affiliations had been with many less-than-reputable rogues before returning to DawnClan, all of which had been almost as bloodthirsty and hell-bent as Huntress, storming the forest and attempting to drive out the Clans. It had been relatively easy to do, seeing how the forest itself wasn't all that large and there were only two Clans residing at the moment. He had to prove his loyalty to the Clans by fighting off Huntress to save all their skins, but even when she had been thwarted and abandoned by her followers, Dusktail knew that most cats were still wary about his presence.

"Don't worry about them," Sparrowclaw would always say. "We did what we had to, and as long as Sootstar trusts us, our place in the Clan is safe."

Albeit, Sparrowclaw was lazy these days, openly apathetic to most cats. But a small part of him knew that even if the dark tabby tom wouldn't admit it, he shared strong feelings for these cats as well.

But not only that, he could tell that his littermate was also suffering from a broken heart. No cat knew more than Dusktail how close he had been to Huntress. The two had done almost everything together, but Dusktail always knew that even if they hadn't turned on her, the romance between the two of them just wouldn't have lasted.

"Are you coming, Dusktail?"

The gray-flecked tom was snapped from his stupor, giving his head a good shake before turning to face Ravenwing. "Coming? Where?"

Ravenwing brought her tail up to flick his ear. "Weren't you listening? I thought you and I could take the kits out to explore the territory for a bit before sunfall. Would you like to come with me?"

Dusktail could feel a smile twitching at his lips. "I'd love to."

…

"I'm going to climb higher than you!"

"Ha, in your dreams! Every cat knows _I'm_ the best!"

The three kits set their tiny sets of claws into the bark of a massive tree, trying their luck to see who could climb the highest. Of course, they never got very far—a couple of tail-lengths was as high as they'd get before gravity took charge and brought them back down.

But Dusktail couldn't help but admire their spirit. Flamekit, the youngest of the three, reminded him the most of her mother. In fact, if it weren't for the kit's dark ginger pelt, he could swear they were the same cat. She saw the world with such awe and wonder, it wasn't a surprise that she was the most enthusiastic of the trio.

And then there was Specklekit. For a kit of five moons, she was as fierce a she-kit as a Tiger-kit. She may not have shared her mother's night-black pelt, but she did have Ravenwing's haunting blue eyes—he recognized the way they glittered often, and guessed she might have been a more pensive kit than her sister.

Crowkit was the eldest of the three, and although he bore his father's reflection and name, he was nothing like Crowflight. Crowkit was quite mature for his age, thoughtful like his sister and never backed down from a challenge. He even attempted to challenge Huntress to defend his father's honor during the revolt. A mouse-brained motion, but a brave one nonetheless. It sent prickles down Dusktail's spine to think about, but the tomcat was relieved all the same.

He definitely wasn't like Crowflight.

Crowflight was a weakling, a coward who had abandoned his own daughter—leaving her to the clutches of StarClan—to save his own hide, and doing the same to his Clan when the bitter leaf-fall had plagued them with sickness. On the night of his death, Sparrowclaw had found him outside of his camp in the dead of night, taking refuge in an old badger sett close to rogue territory. Dusktail knew that if Ravenwing and her kits had gotten greencough along with the rest of the Clan, he'd have left them to share the same fate as Frost and Huntress.

The thought made bile rise in his throat. Crowflight didn't deserve Ravenwing. He wasn't good enough for her. He didn't love her enough. He _couldn't_ love enough. Not like Dusktail did.

Not in nine lifetimes.

"Dusktail? Did you hear me?"

Ravenwing's voice was shrill, frantic, bringing the pale warrior from yet another stupor. "Huh?"

"I can't find Flamekit," she mewed. "She was here a second ago, and the other kits haven't seen her! Do you know which way she went?"

Of course, Dusktail had been lost in thought; he wasn't even aware that Flamekit had gone missing in the first place. He couldn't let Ravenwing know that, so instead of answering right away he parted his jaws to drink in the scents of the forest.

And there it was, the kit's musky DawnClan scent mingled with what smelled like... mint?

"I know where she is," Dusktail said before dashing off into the underbrush. Ravenwing was about to follow when he held up his tail. "Take Specklekit and Crowkit back to camp – it isn't safe for them where I'm going."

Without turning to see if she'd responded, the gray-flecked warrior was off. He knew where this kit had gone: Twolegplace.

And although the place was crawling with kittypets and their Twolegs, he knew all too well that rogues had been taking refuge in the area; he could scent them while he was on patrols, marking the border.

As he ran, he hoped that Flamekit didn't carry his scent. The rogues had been especially bitter with him for turning on them the night of the revolt. To wave treasures right before a poor cat's muzzle and snatch it away in an instant would leave any cat hot, but to take it out on an innocent kit wouldn't be unheard of in a situation like this.

When he'd finally come to the place where Flamekit's scent was the strongest, he allowed his bristling fur to lie flat. She was in no harm, taking up with a couple of kittypets.

"Flamekit, thank StarClan—"

Before he was able to give her an earful the dark ginger kit bounded over to his side, her eyes wild with excitement. "Dusktail, you won't believe it! Streak says that Sandypaw is coming to DawnClan tonight!"

He glanced up from the kit's glowing green eyes to the pale silver tabby tom kit and the blue-gray she-cat that sat atop their white wood fence, gleaming with something that Dusktail didn't quite understand. Instead of commenting, he asked, "Who is Sandypaw?"

The she-cat purred. "I think she means Sandyclaws, who visits every Christmas."

"Care to explain?" the gray warrior asked, his patience wearing thin. He didn't like being out in the open. It felt like being a rogue again, living outside the comfort of the trees.

And these cats seemed unafraid of him. It gave him chills.

"Sure," she mewed, and then settled herself in a more comfortable position, as if what she were about to say would take a while. "You see, all Housefolk in these parts mark their days to celebrate which days are important. They call these days 'Hollydays'. The twenty-fifth day of leaf-fall is a Hollyday called Christmas. On the night before, Sandyclaws makes a visit and leaves gifts for all of the kits who've been good this year."

"Year?" Dusktail echoed, confused. This kittypet was talking nonsense.

"Oh! A year is a whole twelve moons – that's four seasons. Our Housefolk like to group lots of things up like that."

Dusktail was about to comment on how mad Twolegs were, but decided against it. It couldn't be helped, and she clearly didn't mind living with the savages. "So... this Sandyclaws is just going to visit DawnClan? For good kits?"

"Oh no," she shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint, but as far as I've known, Sandyclaws has never ventured into the forest."

The awe-struck expression on Flamekit's face had evaporated and she now looked crestfallen. Dusktail was about to console her, but the silver tabby had done it first. "But don't worry, Flamekit—any cat as awesome as you can definitely expect a gift from Sandyclaws!"

Despite her deflated state, Dusktail could see the ghost of a smile stretching across her muzzle. The small tabby hopped down from his vantage point, coming to face Flamekit. Words were exchanged between the two, but they spoke so quietly that Dusktail couldn't tell what it might be.

"It's time we left now," the she-cat mewed, flicking her tail to beckon her kit. "It was nice meeting the both of you."

"And to you," Dusktail replied with a curt nod. He gestured with his tail for Flamekit to follow, then disappeared into the undergrowth.

The two were silent, the only sound between them the soft crunching of snow underpaw, but it wasn't long before Flamekit glanced up at him, her pale green eyes sullen. "Dusktail? Are... Are kittypets better than us?"

"Better?" before he knew what he was doing, the gray warrior snorted. "If anything, _we're_ better than those kittypets."

"Then why does Sandyclaws visit them and not us? Are we bad?"

"Oh," _This again..._ "Sandyclaws—he only visits kittypets, err... to make them want to stay kittypets."

The young she-kit inclined her head at an angle. "What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it: warriors get to run and play and be free every day—not just on Hollydays. If a kittypet has to wait a whole twelve moons to have fun, they wouldn't want to be kittypets! Everyone would want to be warriors."

"That makes sense," she mewed. "But wouldn't that be a good thing? To have lots of warriors to protect each other?"

Dusktail shook his head. "Not really. There would be too many of us; not enough room for so many cats. The forest would be overcrowded and our prey wouldn't last with so many hungry bellies to feed."

"So... if a kittypet wanted to become a warrior... Sootstar would turn him away?" her eyes flashed with a hidden meaning, but Dusktail was oblivious.

"Yes," he meowed. "Warriors are supposed to chase kittypets away from our territories."

Flamekit nodded. "And if... if a warrior, wanted to become a kittypet?"

"No cat would stop him," came the reply. "But he wouldn't ever be allowed to come back; it would be the warriors' jobs to make sure he stays with other kittypets."

"But you came back," she mewed.

"That was different," he replied. "I proved to my Clan that I would be loyal to them alone. A kittypet who abandons his Clan cannot be trusted to serve his Clan."

"But what about a kittypet who proves his loyalty to his Clan? Wouldn't he be able to join, if he proves himself loyal?"

Dusktail shrugged. "I wouldn't bet on it." he stopped. "Why so interested in kittypets all of a sudden?"

"Oh, uh... no reason," she piped, before leaping ahead and taking the lead to return to camp.

He noticed that as she went, her tail began to trail, disheartened. The fur along Dusktail's spine began to rise. Was Flamekit thinking about abandoning the Clan to become a kittypet?

…

"Sparrowclaw, can I talk to you a moment?"

Dusktail padded up to the dark-furred tabby who'd been standing before the fresh-kill pile, probably contemplating which morsel would be his next meal. He looked up, tail curling in delight at the sight of his littermate. "Finally able to tear away from Ravenwing for a while, eh?" he asked, whiskers twitching. "I'm all ears; what is it you have to tell me?"

"I was with Flamekit this morning, and she was asking me all these questions about..."

The brown tabby grabbed a plump vole between his jaws, his voice muffled as he spoke. "Kits ask questions, you know. It's what they do."

"That's not it though," he mewed. "She was asking me questions about leaving the Clan to become a kittypet... and the other way around. I think she may really want to leave."

As the two padded away from the pile of fresh-kill, Dusktail was dimly aware of all eyes from nearby warriors on him. They eyed the pair as if they could be plotting some kind of ambush. Like they couldn't be trusted.

Like they didn't belong.

Sparrowclaw took no notice, however, seating himself beside his brother under the shade of a willow tree. "Don't be silly," he said. "Flamekit loves being a forest cat; she's definitely got the free spirit. And plus, she loves fighting, and hunting—and _you_, of course. Why would she ever want to leave?"

"Me?" Dusktail shook his head. "I hardly think that. I mean..."

"Trust me." he took a bite of his vole, then continued after a long pause. "If you didn't spend every waking moment padding after Ravenwing, you'd see that each of those three kits thinks of you as their father."

"Even Crowkit?"

"_Especially_ Crowkit." he took another gulp of his vole. "Even if he doesn't say so himself."

There was a long stretch of silence between the two of them before Sparrowclaw understood what Dusktail was trying to say. "You know, just because they're Crowflight's kits doesn't mean they'll turn out like him."

Dusktail stiffened. "I never said that."

"No, but it's what you implied."

It was at this time that Dusktail heard the ever-familiar calling of his name, followed by the padding of footsteps as Ravenwing came over to meet him. "Dusktail, would you like to share a meal with me?" her gaze drifted over to meet Sparrowclaw, who was too busy stuffing his face to voice a greeting. "Or have you already eaten?"

The plump tabby opened his mouth to say something, probably a witty remark, when Dusktail piped up. "I haven't eaten anything yet." he got to his paws quickly and stalked over to her side, dimly aware of the she-cat's purring.

"Don't worry about me," Sparrowclaw said. "I was just about to head out for another nap."

Ravenwing's whiskers twitched. "Keep eating like this and you'll be as big as a kittypet come new-leaf."

"And then my mission will be complete," the tabby remarked.

At this, the black she-cat voiced a _mrrow_ of laughter. She turned and gestured for Dusktail to follow, but something else had come to mind at this time.

"Err, Ravenwing," he began. "I'll catch up with you in a moment—there's something I need to take care of before I can eat."

Her eyes softened at his tone. "Is everything alright? Should I come with you?"

"Not this time," he mewed, "But I'll meet with you later."

Sparrowclaw snorted from where he lay, but didn't speak up.

"I'll... see you later, then?" she asked, her tone hopeful.

Dusktail touched his nose to her shoulder. "I promise."

He padded hesitantly away, heart thrumming as he glanced back, his amber gaze locked with Ravenwing's. He had to go, though—he'd need help for what he was planning.

Soon he came across the elders' den, his ear twitching apprehensively as he called out for the old she-cat. "Snowfoot, are you awake?"

It was well after dusk now; he could guess that she'd retired early for the night. Luckily, she was still awake. "What is it?" came the rasping reply.

Taking this as permission to enter, Dusktail slid into the den. His eyes didn't adjust to the dim light right away, but when he did, he realized that three pairs of curious eyes were focused on him.

To the far right of the den was Lizardclaw—an old tom with spiky gray fur that was almost black in the darkness. He was Sootstar's father—Dusktail's grandfather, and the oldest cat in DawnClan today, his spirit still longing to live the adventurous life of a warrior cat. Despite his old age, Lizardclaw still had the sharpest claws Dusktail had ever seen. He certainly took pride in living up to his name.

On the opposite side of the den was Swiftstream, a pure white she-cat with one ear. He had heard stories as a kit of how she'd lost it to a badger, but she never showed any regret for losing such a vital part of her body. She had always said that she couldn't have heard out of it before if she wanted to, and that the badger had lost much more in return. Dusktail always thought that she was very lucky to have lost the very hear she'd been deaf out of already as opposed to losing the only one that worked; the other way around would have been horribly ironic.

But despite the elderly she-cat's fierceness in battle, Dusktail knew that Swiftstream was one of the most amiable cats in the Clan, as most warriors came to her for advice. Albeit as helpful as she was, he hadn't come for her today.

The she-cat he'd been looking for was Snowfoot, the night-black elder who lay just before him, her icy blue eyes reflecting her daughter's own gaze.

Looking her over, he could see that she was the splitting image of Ravenwing. From her white-tipped tail to her snowy-white paws, Dusktail could have thought he was staring into a future version of his young love.

"You called?" she asked, bitterness lacing her voice.

_She certainly didn't share Ravenwing's personality, _Dusktail thought resentfully. "I wanted to ask for your help," Dusktail mewed. "I was wondering..."

Before he could ask, Lizardclaw cut in. "Come to ask for Snowfoot's blessing to become Ravenwing's mate?" he asked, purring.

Dusktail's ear flicked. He hated that every cat in the Clan gossiped about him and Ravenwing's closeness; it sent prickles up his spine when they were together and he knew that their eyes were trained on his pelt, staring, assuming. "That's not what I'm here for," he meowed, forcing his tone to be even. "I wanted to know if you've ever heard of a tom named 'Sandyclaws'."

"Oh, we've heard of him all right!" that was Swiftstream, now purring as she thought back on her days as a warrior.

Snowfoot snorted. "A mouse-brained rumor if I ever heard one."

"Remember when we'd first heard of him?" Lizardclaw asked. "And Thistlestar had four warriors patrolling every mouse-length of our territory the whole night through?"

Swiftstream sighed. "Back when kittypets were brave enough to spread rumors like that and think they'd get away with it."

"Oh, remember _that_?" Lizardclaw mewed reminiscently.

"How could I not?" Snowfoot's tail lashed. "We chased those kittypets so far out of Twolegplace that they had to follow our scent trail to get back!"

The three shared a _mrrow_ of laughter, but Dusktail kneaded the ground anxiously. This wasn't what he wanted to talk about.

"So, Dusktail, what did you want to know?" Snowfoot asked.

"I want to know what he does," he explained. "I mean, _how_ he does it."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," she meowed, jerking her head in the direction of the pristine white elder. "Ask Swiftstream—she knows all about 'Sandyclaws'."

There was a mocking tone in her voice, one that the white she-cat responded to fondly, her tail flicking the other elder's nose. "From what I remember, Sandyclaws was said to be able to sneak into any nest—be it Twoleg or warrior—and leave gifts behind for kits who have been well-behaved for twelve whole moons."

"The only good thing about Sandyclaws," Snowfoot growled. "Not having to chase after kits all day."

Despite her words, Dusktail could see the gleam in her eyes that told him otherwise.

"Anyway, this 'Sandyclaws' would only come if every kit was asleep when he came, lest he be spotted and taken away by Twolegs," Swiftstream went on. "He would leave playthings for kits that were deserving, but left coal for kits that were bad."

Dusktail nodded. "Anything else?" he asked.

The she-cat shook her head. "That's all I know. Warriors aren't even supposed to be talking to kittypets, so it wasn't like I could stick around very long to hear the rest."

"Well, thank you." he nodded to each of the elders, getting to his paws. "I should really get going now."

"Meeting Ravenwing, are we?" Lizardclaw asked wryly.

Dusktail didn't respond, instead flicked his tail in acknowledgment.

"Speaking of Ravenwing, one of her kits had stopped by to ask about Sandyclaws as well. Is there something you've failed to tell me?" Snowfoot narrowed her eyes.

"Nothing that Flamekit hasn't already," came his response.

Swiftstream sat up, ducking under the roof of the den. "I hope you're not going out to start trouble, Dusktail."

Where the gray warrior expected to hear warning and a hint of stern wording, he found genuine concern. It was no wonder every cat felt safe around her. "Far from that," he meowed, and slipped out of the den without another word.

…

It had to be at least moonhigh when Dusktail had finally woke. The moon was perched at its highest point in the night's starry pelt, pale silver light stifled by a mass of churning clouds. He'd have to do this quick, if he wanted to be finished before dawn. Glancing to his flank, the gray-flecked warrior was surprised to see that who he thought had been Sparrowclaw had actually been Ravenwing, snoozing beside him with her three kits.

_Had I fallen asleep here in the nursery?_

The thought crossed his mind, but then the tomcat realized that even if he probably wasn't supposed to sleep in the nursery with them, he'd find himself there again soon, lost in their warmth. How could he stay away?

Ravenwing didn't seem to mind, despite this. She lay comfortably at his side, nestled into his fur, which seemed stark against her own dark pelt. He almost didn't want to leave them there, to instead preserve the moment for as long as it may last.

But a voice in the back of his mind told him that he had to do this. Just the thought of seeing their faces when they woke the next morning was incentive enough for the warrior to get to his paws and slip out of the nursery.

Sandyclaws was coming to DawnClan.

…

"He came!" a voice rung out, shattering the tranquility that usually followed the day at dawn. "He really came!"

Cinderfang, the old gray queen who was in the nursery as well, expecting kits, scooped up two pawfuls of moss and held them against her ears with an annoyed growl.

Despite this, Flamekit found herself bouncing into Dusktail and Ravenwing, who dozed happily side-by-side. "Wake up!" she squeaked. "He came!"

"Who came?" asked Specklekit, her tiny jaws parted in a yawn.

Crowkit didn't speak up, but Flamekit could tell by his expression that he was equally curious.

Ravenwing was awake now, her bright blue eyes darting left to right anxiously. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"_Better_ than alright!" the dark ginger kit shrieked, eliciting another groan from Cinderfang. "Sandyclaws—he came!"

"What's all this about Sandyclaws?" Dusktail yawned, stretching, but not daring part from Ravenwing's side.

Flamekit, eyes shining, turned to him. "The kittypets were wrong—Sandyclaws did come! Look!" she held a small pebble, shining softly in the growing sunlight, in front of Dusktail.

"It's beautiful," the gray tom remarked. "But how do you know it was from Sandyclaws?"

"Oh, right!" she scrambled over to the entrance of the nursery, standing over a spot where sand lay sprayed all around, fused with the floor of the den. "See—he left his tracks behind."

"I guess Sandyclaws forgot to clean up after himself," Dusktail meowed, ear flicking. As he did this, a grain of two of sand dislodged itself from behind his ear, falling to the floor. He hoped none of the kits had seen that.

But Cinderfang had, and just when he expected her to spoil the kits' fun, her tail flicked, a gesture that his secret was safe with her. He nodded his thanks, and received a nod in return.

"Why did only Flamekit get a gift?" Specklekit griped. "Were we bad?" Crowkit nodded his consent.

"Don't be silly," Dusktail said, unable to hide his excitement. "You both got gifts, too."

Specklekit whipped her head side to side until she found a tall, yellow flower with a stem that had been chewed short. "What is it?" she asked, awe evident in her tone.

"The kittypets call it a sunflower," Dusktail explained. "Some of them grow to be as big as _Twolegs_."

"Whoa..."

"And you, Crowkit." Dusktail nudged a leaf-wrapped ball in front of the kit. "It's a moss ball, for you and your littermates to play with."

The kit's face brightened as he eyed the ball of wrapped moss, and then faced up to meet his warm gaze.

"Come now—let's show the elders what Sandyclaws has left you." Dusktail was surprised to see Cinderfang herding the kits out of the nest.

Given how grouchy she usually was at dawn, it was more of a shock to the she-cat who'd known her longer. "Oh, Cinderfang, you don't have to..."

"I'm not going to take them for myself—I'm leaving them with Snowfoot." her whiskers twitched, each just how cranky the elder was at this time of day. "Besides, I thought '_Sandyclaws_' might be tired after such a long outing last night."

Ravenwing glanced up sharply just then, but the queen and her kits were gone now. She turned to Dusktail instead, who had laid his head on his paws. "Dusktail?" she asked. "Did you have something to do with this?"

Dusktail shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then, glancing over her shoulder, he asked, "What's that?"

He touched his tail to her other flank, and Ravenwing gaped when she saw what lie beside her: a red rose in all its brilliance, lay delicately at her side with a dash of sand to mark its origin. "A rose," Ravenwing mewed, then shot a wry look in Dusktail's direction. "From Sandyclaws, eh?"

The gray warrior touched his tail-tip to the splotch of sand on the nursery floor. "I thought he only bought gifts for kits... He must really be fond of you."

Dusktail could see her lips twitching into a grin. "So I see," she mused. "Too bad my loyalty already lies with another tom."

At this, Dusktail was a bit confused. As mouse-brained as it might have been, he wasn't quite sure whether or not she meant him. But before he could ask, he felt Ravenwing's muzzle move to press against his. He shut his eyes against the sensation it brought, like electric currents trailing from ears to tail-tip; truly blissful.

Ravenwing pulled away from him for a heartbeat, nuzzling his neck. "Thank you," she mewed. "For everything."

Dusktail grabbed her tail in his, purring as they coiled together. "I love you, Ravenwing."

"I love you too..." her words were lost within the tom's spotted gray pelt.

Just then, Dusktail thought he saw light shapes falling, plummeting, from the sky and turned to face the entrance of the nursery. That was when he saw them: those beautiful, pristine white snowflakes descending from StarClan to coat the earth. They looked like the starlit warriors had been entombed in crystals, falling from the heavens to make such a momentous day even better.

Flamekit then scrambled into his sight, her eyes gleaming as she watched the snow fall. It warmed Dusktail's heart to see her so happy—to see that _he'd_ made her so happy. Soon after Crowkit and Specklekit had joined in, tangling their paws with hers so that they were now play fighting among the newest coat of snow that Silverpelt had to offer.

He was glad they were happy, but even more that he could make them so happy.

There was a warm, fuzzy feeling he got in his paws—that feeling that only he could make them feel the way they did; that feeling that he was the one piece that made them complete, that made him feel as though all of his hardships leading up until now hadn't been in vain after all. Instead, it made him feel invigorated. Because for the first time in his life, he felt whole.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

…

**Okay, to wrap things up I want to say that this fic is dedicated to all of the friends I've made here of Fanfiction since joining; may we be the best of pals or simply acquaintances of sorts, your companionship means the world to me (Yes, even you, MC ;P).**

**Merry Christmas! o3o**


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